


only you and you can hear me

by yeahloads



Series: look at everything we've grown [3]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Barebacking, Beta Jeff, Implied Mpreg, M/M, Miscarriage, Niche Nonsense, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Omega Harry, weirdos in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-22
Updated: 2019-06-22
Packaged: 2020-05-16 07:56:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19313917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeahloads/pseuds/yeahloads
Summary: Five times that Jeff and Harry tried for a baby, and when things finally worked out.





	only you and you can hear me

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I apologize that this has taken me approximately forever, but it's here now! I hope that people enjoy it as much as I enjoyed planning and writing it. Special thanks to Madelyn for beta'ing - I don't know where I'd be without your help ♥
> 
> Come say hi on [tumblr](http://www.harryseyebrows.tumblr.com)!
> 
> Title from Tiny Dancer by Elton John

“Faster,” Harry breathes, his fingers curling into the rumpled gray sheets on either side of his head.

Jeff’s thighs are starting to feel wobbly, and they haven’t even been going at it for that long. “Faster?” he asks.

Most of Harry’s face is obscured with the way he’s positioned: on his knees with his shoulders collapsed against the bed, cheek pressed to the mattress. But that doesn’t mean Jeff can’t make out his smirk from the sliver of his cheek that he _can_ see.

“Yes, Jeffrey. _Ngh_ ,” he pauses on a moan, back arching even deeper. “Faster.”

Jeff isn’t sure if he _can_ go faster. He’s trying to hold himself back, actually. Because he’s been on the precipice of No Return Territory for a while now, and the way Harry keeps urgently pushing his hips back against him isn’t helping.

He obliges, though, despite his protesting muscles and the way he feels like he’s on a hair trigger. Harry stretches into it, spreading his legs and changing the angle a bit, his belly contracting under Jeff’s fingers where they’re tucked into the dip of his waist.

When Jeff drops his eyes down, he can see the way Harry’s back is shifting and twitching, and lower, where he’s pink and wet with lube and stretched around Jeff’s dick.

Jeff quickly looks at the ceiling. He tries to think of things to distract himself: bicycles, hot air balloons, water shoes. Just —  _anything_ to keep his mind off of the hot clench in his pelvis, the increasingly urgent need to sink in as deep as he can and let himself finish up against the most intimate part of Harry’s anatomy, where hopefully, nature will move things along in their favor.

Harry throws an arm back and reaches blindly for any part of Jeff he can manage, landing on the crease of his groin. Jeff keeps himself steady, even as Harry scratches at him and lets out his most guttural moan yet.

“Oh my — God —  _yes_. _There_. Right — there.” Harry keeps losing his breath as his body is moved up the bed with the force of Jeff’s thrusts.

It’s spurring Jeff on. He feels renewed by a sudden burst of strength and stamina. He’s still close, but he’s determined to get Harry there first. He wants to feel him come before he loses himself to his own orgasm.

Jeff usually has better self control. This isn’t even the first time him and Harry have fucked without a condom — which admittedly doesn’t mean much considering that every time seems to be more intense than the last — but this still feels different. It _is_ different. Harry used up the last of his birth control a few weeks ago and they’ve finally decided that it’s time.

Neither of them are really hoping for much on the first go. If it happens, it happens. But other than that, they’re just happy for the experience of knowing it’s a possibility. It’s exciting. And satisfying for Jeff on some deep, untapped level that he was previously unaware of, knowing that he gets to come inside Harry and potentially get him pregnant with _his_ baby. It feels primal and a little scary, but mostly he’s just happy that Harry seems to be just as into it as he is, if not more.

The slap of skin-on-skin is drowning out the low sounds of NatGeo Wild coming from the TV speakers in the background. A quick glance shows that Dr. Pol is delivering a baby calf. Oddly appropriate given the circumstances, he thinks.

A whimper catches in Harry’s throat and pulls Jeff’s attention back to him, though. He gets one of his feet flat on the bed, so he’s in more of a lunge position and has better leverage. With his hands, he presses Harry’s upper body down while keeping his hips supported, really pushing the limits of his core flexibility to drill at his prostate. He’s a man possessed. Harry’s single whimper turns into a babbling stream of them, overwhelmed and near incoherent.

Jeff can’t help the way his lips tug up into a smile. He loves when Harry gets like this. Loves listening to him and seeing him tremble and shake. Loves the way he’s making him feel good.

He’s so hard now that he fears he might burst, just split open from the build up of arousal and affection. His hands are sweaty and starting to slide against Harry’s equally slippery skin, so he tightens his grip a bit, just enough so that he can move Harry as he pleases while he rabbits his own hips faster.

He thinks Harry tries to say something, but all he can make out is a mess of random consonants, half-slurred and mumbled. He doesn’t need to tell Jeff what he wants; Jeff knows already.

“Love you,” Jeff says, out of breath. He always feels a bit silly when he tries to talk during sex, but it’s worth it for the way Harry reacts. “You feel so good,” he adds. “Want you to come.” And after a few more thrusts, Harry does just that.

Jeff watches as his whole body locks up before he goes entirely loose, shuddering through the last of it while he paints the sheets under him. He keeps his ass tilted up, even as he starts to gasp softly from oversensitivity, Jeff slowing the pace of his hips, but still pumping into Harry.

“Inside,” Harry whispers, voice barely a crackle, blissed out and soft. “Don’t pull out.”

As if Jeff had any intention of doing so. He rubs soothingly over Harry’s wet belly and strokes his other hand up and over his broad back, feeling every inch of warm skin laid out in front of him. He looks down again at where Harry is still clenching rhythmically around him and draws his thumb over the stretched skin there, making Harry shiver.

He slows his pace a bit, opting for long, deep strokes that let him feel all of the slick heat that he’s fucking into.

“C’mon,” Harry says, turning his head to look at Jeff over his shoulder, his green eyes heavy-lidded but bright. “Do it.”

Those simple words make Jeff’s whole body throb. He wants to kiss Harry quiet. Wants to lay out overtop him like a blanket, until they’re touching everywhere, head to toe. Wants to spread Harry open and come all over him, physical evidence that he’s Jeff’s and that Jeff is his. But that’s not his purpose right now.

Harry made a request and Jeff is more than happy to oblige him.

It starts as an incessant tingle in the tips of his toes. Quickly and without mercy, it works its way up his legs and into his belly, where the heat finally settles and everything snaps into place like an elastic band. He bites his lip and groans through it while he pulses, the entirety of his cock inside of Harry, right where he belongs.

It must be the release of chemicals and hormones that are giving him all of these wild possessive thoughts: the knowledge that he just fucked Harry bare and filled him up, that they might have just created the beginnings of a new person from the ether. He closes his eyes at the onslaught of aftershocks, willing himself to breathe more steadily and get his head back.

He allows himself to slide out and push back in a few times, wanting to extend the good feeling that’s taken over his every cell and atom. Harry makes a little sound. Not one of pain or pleasure, but more of a sign that he’s still alive and present despite his stillness.

Jeff leans down and kisses in between his shoulder blades, right over one of the more prominent freckles that dapple his pale back. He hears Harry sigh at the same time he feels it under his lips, his skin stretching while he takes in air and relaxing when he lets it out.

They stay like that for a few moments, until Jeff’s calves start to go numb and his knees let him know it’s time to move.

He asks, “You good?” as he pointedly traces his finger over Harry’s rim.

Harry sighs again. “Yeah. Go ahead.” He sounds like he’s halfway to sleep already.

Carefully, with his thumb and pointer finger holding the base of his softening cock, Jeff pulls out of Harry’s warmth. There’s a slight trickle that follows; Jeff has to physically fight against outright moaning at the sight. Harry, however must remember the unofficial task at hand, because he visibly tightens up, keeping the rest at bay for now.

Jeff flops on his back next to Harry, stretching out his legs and reaching up above himself to stretch his torso and back. Harry rolls over slowly, and after a few minor adjustments, flips himself around so his head is at the bottom of the bed, feet against the wall.

“ _What_ are you doing?” Jeff snorts.

Harry drums his fingers over Jeff’s ankle. “Just… helping things along.”

Jeff hums. “Thought we weren’t _trying_ trying yet.”

He hears rather than sees Harry shrug, the sound of skin moving against cotton. “I mean. We’re not. But it can’t hurt, right?”

“Guess not,” Jeff agrees.

He eventually levers himself out of bed while Harry is still… marinating. From the bathroom, he wets a washcloth with warm water and gives himself a cursory wipedown before returning to the bedroom with it.

Harry has gone back to a more normal orientation and is sitting up against the headboard with the sheets pulled over his lap, head tipped back and eyes closed.

“Feel any different yet?” Jeff jokes.

Harry’s lips twitch. He cracks one eye open to peer at Jeff. “It’s a bit early for that.”

Jeff knees his way onto the bed and perches next to Harry’s legs. “Do you wanna do the honors, or shall I?”

Kicking the sheets down with his feet, Harry dramatically stretches out in all of his post-coital glory, still slightly damp with sweat and pink in places. “Attend me,” he says, adopting a fake posh accent. He’s been watching too many period films, lately.

With a good-natured eye roll, Jeff wipes Harry clean, working his way down his chest to his belly and in between his legs. Harry giggles and squirms the entire time, because he doesn’t have a cooperative bone in his body, and Jeff pinches one of his nipples just for good measure.

 

* * *

 

Harry is always cranky during the last few days leading up to a heat, so Jeff lets him have his space. He fetches things as necessary — ibuprofen, assorted snacks, DVDs of various romcoms that Harry can watch in their bedroom — but otherwise tries to stay scarce. When Harry wants him, he’ll let him know.

Jeff’s own nose can’t pick up the scent that would tell him Harry is very close to being fully there. Harry says it makes him feel nauseous, the way it permeates every inch of the house and everything in it, but Jeff is none the wiser.

It’s when Jeff is in the middle of putting away some groceries that Harry summons him.

He checks that there are no more perishables or things that need to go in the fridge before he heads down the hallway.

He’s greeted by the sight of Harry completely naked, tearing the comforter off the bed and rather aggressively tossing it on the floor.

“Everything okay?” Jeff asks from the doorway, keeping his tone as light as possible.

Harry uses the back of his hand to wipe sweat off his brow. “You know, they didn’t have to be so literal when they called it a ‘heat.’ Do we have the AC on still? I feel like I’m going to fucking _melt_.”

Jeff’s eyebrows rise up on his forehead. “I can check it if you want.”

Harry pauses his destruction of their bed linens and looks at Jeff fully for the first time since he called him down here. His face falls, lips tugging into a frown. “Why’re you still dressed?” he asks.

Jeff glances down at himself. He was previously unaware that his t-shirt and jeans were an immediate problem.

“I —” Jeff starts, but Harry cuts him off.

“Never mind. Just get on the bed.”

Evidently things are in full swing now so Jeff does as requested without a fight; in his experience, he knows that Harry will be significantly less testy once they get started.

Harry is on him in an instant, straddling Jeff’s hips and muttering something that sounds an awful lot like, “This better fucking work this time.”

Instead of going for Jeff’s flies right away, he surprises him by pressing his mouth against Jeff’s own in a sweet kiss that directly contrasts the impatient and borderline rough way he’s gripping Jeff’s jaw. Jeff moves his lips slowly, yielding, letting Harry set the pace. He keeps his hands to himself, curling his fingers into the fitted sheet — all that’s currently left atop the mattress aside from a couple of pillows — and opens when Harry swipes his tongue across Jeff’s bottom lip.

The combination of Harry being naked and the way he’s slowly grinding said naked body directly overtop Jeff’s dick has him hard in only a short few minutes. Harry is employing quite a bit of self control to keep himself so steady and measured, seemingly satisfied with lazy rolls of his hips while he licks into Jeff’s mouth like it’s his for the taking. Which... it is, for the most part. Jeff, however, is not quite so patient right now, lovely as this may be.

He separates his mouth from Harry’s with a small wet sound. Harry, with his eyes still closed, drifts forward to continue. Jeff puts up a hand to stop him.

“I’m sorry, but I gotta take my pants off,” Jeff explains at Harry’s questioning glance.

As if Harry forgot about his heat and what they were doing, he appears to light up with some renewed sense of urgency. He scrambles off Jeff’s lap and has Jeff’s jeans unbuttoned and unzipped before he can even reach for them himself.

It doesn’t take very long to get his jeans and underwear completely off, followed quickly by his shirt and socks. Everything gets dumped on the floor next to the bed and then Harry is back on him, cupping Jeff’s face between both of his palms while he tugs at his bottom lip with his teeth. With a simple shift of his pelvis, their bare cocks bump together, making them both suck in air through their teeth.

Harry gives Jeff’s earlobe a playful bite before he whispers, “Need you to fuck me now.”

Jeff couldn’t hold down the groan he lets out if he tried, his hips automatically flexing up to meet the skin of Harry’s ass. Which, Jeff notes now that he’s paying attention, is already slick. His hands move automatically, searching for a better feel of the tangible proof of Harry’s arousal and desire. He groans even louder when his fingers slip through it, squeezing two handfuls of Harry’s cheeks before reaching further inward, closer to the source.

Harry’s face has found a spot in the crook of Jeff’s neck where he’s panting steadily, tickling Jeff slightly. When Jeff traces over the wetness of his hole, his whole body goes taut as a bowstring before he shivers and turns nearly limp. He lets out a cry that sounds like it’s been torn out of him, and Jeff feels bad for a moment for teasing him. But Harry just presses his dick more insistently into Jeff’s belly and says, “ _Please_. I’m wet for you. Don’t you wanna fuck me?”

Jeff does. He _really_ does. But he also doesn’t want to admit to his sneaking suspicion that if he lets Harry get his way now, it’ll all be over more quickly than either of them would like. And Harry certainly won’t be amicable to Jeff after two minutes of hurried thrusting before Jeff inevitably comes his brains out and is rendered useless until he can force himself to get it up again.

He grips Harry’s hips gently. “Baby,” Jeff pitches his voice low. “Let me do something just for you first. Eat you out. Take the edge off and get the first ones out of the way. You’re all wound up —”

Harry stops his urgent movements and sits up. His eyes are bright in a decidedly agitated way. “I’m all _wound up_ because you won’t put your dick in me already, _baby_.”

Explicitness aside, the words sound sweet, dripping past his lips like melted sugar. But Jeff blushes, at both Harry’s boldness and his own. They only ever talk like this during Harry’s heats, and every time Jeff always seems to forget how it affects him.

His resolve is weakening under Harry’s gaze. “I’m not gonna last long. Like, at all,” Jeff admits bluntly.

Harry doesn’t seem at all surprised by this information and rolls his eyes. “I don’t _care_. I’m hot and sweaty and cramping and —”

Jeff holds his hands up in surrender. “All right. Relax.” He tries for soothing, keeping his voice steady when he feels anything but. It’s heady knowing that someone wants you this much. Harry’s gaze on him is intent and hungry. Jeff takes a deep breath and nudges his hips up.

Harry assesses him for another moment before he evidently decides something.

That something is him turning around so that Jeff has a full view of his broad back and pert ass as he spreads his cheeks with his hands and shows off his wet hole. He’s literally glistening with it; when he clenches, poised over the tip of Jeff’s cock but not touching yet, a thick trickle of clear slick slowly rolls over his taint and balls.

Jeff’s mouth waters instantly at the sight. He’s been idly rubbing Harry’s thighs as soon as he turned around, but he slides them up and back, gripping the globes of Harry’s cheeks in his hands, squeezing and releasing.

His hips start gently pulsing upwards, rhythmic and slow, and when Harry grips his cock and finally snubs it up against his hole, Jeff can’t help the way he pushes through the wetness there, sliding through Harry’s crack.

They both moan. Harry shuffles backwards a bit to get even closer while Jeff meets Harry’s hand with his own and takes hold of his dick, pushing just the head into Harry’s warm and willing body. It’s not enough, though. Harry tips his head back, exposing the long column of his throat, making the muscles in his back flex and shift as he whines impatiently.  

Jeff panics for a second: he never opened him up. But like this, Harry doesn’t need prep and he’s currently making it abundantly clear that he wants to be stretched on only Jeff’s dick, if the way he’s churning his hips is any indication. His body is the perfect balance of loose and tight, simultaneously clutching at Jeff and letting him slide home in one smooth glide.

He bottoms out quickly, because Harry doesn’t show himself any mercy.

With his ass pressed flush with Jeff’s groin, Harry whines, “ _God_ , I fucking love your cock.”

Jeff shudders, somehow still not used to the filth that Harry spews when he’s like this, nearly out of his mind with hormones and want, totally different from the more shy, reserved Harry that he’s more familiar with on a daily basis. Though he loves them both equally, Jeff can’t deny that this version has a certain special appeal.

Harry starts to bounce, leaning forward and holding onto Jeff’s knees for leverage. His pace is energetic, the sound of their bodies meeting loud over their labored breathing, his thighs tensing as his ass undulates with every slam down. When Harry comes, the only sign of it is the way he starts clenching in perfectly-timed intervals and the half-choked moan he lets out. Otherwise, he doesn’t falter once, riding Jeff though the entire thing.

Jeff is hypnotized. He sets his thumbs into the divots in Harry’s lower back and simply lets them rest there, the rest of his fingers curling around his hips. He’s not trying to guide him or push him along — Harry knows what he’s doing — but Jeff loves watching _and_ feeling his body move.

But perhaps the speed Harry sets is a bit too ambitious. It doesn’t take very long for him to start showing signs of tiredness: going from a bounce to a grind, leaning forward even more onto Jeff’s legs, whining miserably as he seats himself firmly, clenching viciously like that will help.

Jeff silently urges him back, expecting Harry to get off his dick briefly to change positions, but that was foolish of him to assume.

With Jeff still lying down, Harry lays back on top of him so they’re chest to back in a move that rivals the skills of some gymnasts. Except his legs get stuck in the process and when he slides them out from under himself to get his feet on the mattress, he nearly snaps Jeff’s dick off.

“Ow, _ow_ ,” Jeff quickly gasps. “ _Hey_. That’s attached.”

Harry apologizes, his voice a hazy whisper as he fine-tunes his position. Jeff gets his own feet on the mattress for better leverage as he holds Harry’s legs up and open, his fingers tucked into the bends of his knees.

Pressed together like this, Jeff can nuzzle his face into Harry’s neck, kiss along his jaw, nip at his shoulder. It also means that he gets a mouthful of Harry’s hair, but when Harry starts wiggling impatiently while still stuffed full of Jeff’s cock, he can’t bring himself to complain.

They don’t bother easing into things this time either; right away Jeff starts quickly pumping his hips upwards, spurred on by Harry starting to let out half-choked moans and grunts as he lets Jeff move him like a ragdoll, striping his belly and chest in white as he comes for a second time.

Jeff was already sweating, but after only a few minutes of keeping up like that, he can feel moisture rolling down his temples and into his hairline. He’s starting to lose his grip on Harry’s legs, which are starting to sweat too, slippery and made worse by the way Harry is wiggling around erratically.  

It’s a cramp in Jeff’s calf that forces him to stop entirely.

“ _Nooo_ ,” Harry whines. “No, what are you doing?”

Carefully, Jeff tips them onto their sides. It makes him slip out of Harry’s body, but the sight of slick leaking out of his stretched hole is enough for Jeff to squeeze the base of his dick as a warning to himself.

“What do you —” Jeff starts to ask, but Harry is already getting up onto his knees, looking over his shoulder at Jeff in a way that says _hurry up_.

Jeff scrambles into position. It takes some minor adjustments — kneeing Harry’s legs a bit further apart so his hips are low enough for Jeff to dick into him again — before Jeff can pull his arms across Harry’s chest and press them together back to chest again.

Harry’s extra tight like this: caught in Jeff’s hold, reaching his arms up to grab the back of Jeff’s neck so he’s fully pinned open and at his mercy. They move slower this time, Jeff keeping his thrusts shallow and deep, focusing on breathing and the sounds Harry’s making.

He has a close call when Harry comes for a third time. Jeff has been doing an okay job so far, weathering Harry clamping down on him tightly enough to make him fear for his circulation, and moaning loud enough that Jeff can feel it reverberate in his own chest. But when Harry starts to shake and writhe like he’s being possessed and a burst of new wetness starts to gush around Jeff’s dick and all over his thighs, he has to pull out and hope for the best.

He feels dizzy for a second; Harry, who hasn’t noticed yet, is still keening, his upper body now collapsed against the mattress.

With a few deep breaths, Jeff gathers himself and rolls Harry onto his back. Harry’s eyes are shut tightly, his mouth open on a near-perpetual moan, but he comes alive again as Jeff slides back into him.

Harry’s legs come around Jeff’s waist automatically; he uses that leverage to push his hips up, so his ass and lower back are hovering above the mattress. Jeff takes the hint and keeps him lifted, shifting so he’s more upright and can press in deep before pulling almost all the way out.

The wet, squelching sounds from where they’re connected are like music to Jeff’s ears. It’s sensory overload. His eyes don’t know where to land, skittering over the deep flush on Harry’s chest, his pink pebbled nipples, his contracting belly, or the red skin of his hole.

Every time Jeff draws back, his dick comes away wetter than before, thick clear slick and frothy white covering the length of him. Harry comes again, suddenly, and Jeff can’t stop himself this time. He falls over the edge with him, doing his best to keep up the motion of his hips for Harry even as he edges into oversensitive territory.

He pulls out all the way to watch his come leak out of him for a second, ignoring Harry’s urgent protests, just so he can push it back in and relish in the warm aftershocks.

Hopefully gravity will be doing most of the work for them, as Harry is still bent and tilted, which can’t be comfortable now that the cushion of orgasm build up is gone.

Jeff pinches Harry’s hip lightly. “Gonna put your feet up on the wall like before?” he asks.  

Harry swallows and sighs, the left corner of his mouth tilted up. “ _No_. But can you grab me a pillow? Wanna keep my hips up.”

Jeff pulls out for the last time with a groan while Harry keeps himself braced in a bridge position.

 

* * *

 

When Jeff walks into their bedroom, Harry is already under the covers, the edge of the navy quilt pulled all the way up to his neck. His eyes are closed but he’s not asleep yet; his feet rubbing together under the covers are a dead giveaway that he’s still awake.

Jeff gets under the blankets with him and curls an arm around his waist. He’s pleased to discover that Harry is very much naked under here as he sweeps his fingers over Harry’s bare torso, briefly dipping down to feel where his hips and thighs are similarly free from any potentially hindering fabrics.

Harry hums at his touch. It sends a pleasant rumble through Jeff’s ribs where they’re touching, chest to back. Softly, Jeff presses his lips against the spot where Harry’s shoulder meets his neck.

“If you’re tired, we can just go to bed,” Jeff offers. He’d be fine with it, honestly. But he would be lying if he said he wasn’t interested in what might be on the table. They’ve tried a new tactic lately, after trying to conceive during a heat didn’t work. Earlier in the week, Harry informed him that he’s been tracking his cycle, and tonight would be a good night to try.

Evidently more alert than he was letting on, Harry scoots his hips back and rubs his ass against Jeff’s still-soft cock. Even through two layers of fabric — sweatpants and boxers — it sends a wave of heat through his pelvis.

“I’m not that tired,” Harry practically purrs.

There’s no rush. No urgency like there has been lately: this fizzy undercurrent of calculation and objective. Jeff moves leisurely, leaving a trail of closed-mouth kisses down the center of Harry’s spine, relishing in his febrile shivers and small, pleased noises.

Harry’s skin is warm under Jeff’s mouth, soft and smelling of nothing in particular, just the faint sweetness of his body wash. He gets warmer the further Jeff goes down: under the covers; at the curve where his back tapers into the slope of his ass; the smooth roundness of his cheeks; the dark cleft that spreads easily for Jeff’s hands, revealing the dusky, tight furl of his hole.

When Jeff finally puts his mouth there, the warmest part of him, Harry whimpers, high and thready.

“Hold your leg up,” Jeff says softly, pushing Harry’s outer thigh towards his chest to give himself more room to work.

Harry does, but only after a bit of adjusting first. He rolls so he’s more on his back and keeps his hips twisted so that he’s still half on his side. With one leg still stretched out along the bed and the other bent and raised, there’s a perfect spot for Jeff to put his face in, which he wastes no time in doing.

As soon as his tongue makes contact with skin, one of Harry’s hands comes down to grip the hair at the top of Jeff’s head. The other, when Jeff glances up, is curled around the top of the headboard, his bicep tensing and releasing.

He loves the way he can feel Harry clench under his mouth, when he uses his lips to press a soft kiss, or when he makes his tongue broad and flat, licking from his crack to the soft skin behind his balls.

His fingers are hooked around both of Harry’s thighs like anchors, pressing hard enough to keep him steady but still giving him the freedom to move as he pleases.

He hasn’t had the chance to do this much lately, with the focus on Jeff coming inside of Harry as many times as he can possibly manage to increase their odds. So this — something a little different and softer, with Harry relaxed and sleepy — is a nice change of pace.

Jeff places a kiss on the middle of Harry’s ass cheek and asks, “Feel good?” against his skin.

Harry’s reply is a quiet, low moan.

They carry on like that for a bit. Jeff does his best to keep an even balance between unpredictable swipes of his lips and tongue and consistent, steady pressure. Harry keeps squirming, letting out these little whines when Jeff does something he likes.

It’s clear that he’s getting close when the pauses between moans disappear entirely and he starts making continuous noise.  

There’s a question that Jeff isn’t sure how to ask. He pulls his wet mouth away and looks up at Harry, who has his eyes closed and his face mashed nearly all the way into his pillow.

“Do you want me to stop?” The _So we can move onto something else_ is left unspoken but it hangs in the air nonetheless.

After a moment that seems to stretch on forever, Harry nods.

Jeff tries not to feel a tiny bit disappointed, even though it means that he gets to fuck Harry. He just misses doing it for fun, when there wasn’t all this pressure on him to get it right this time, even though Harry has made it clear that he’s shouldering most of the blame for their failed attempts.

Still, Jeff dutifully gets out the lube, pausing for a flash as he sees a strip of condoms in the drawer. He’s surprised Harry hasn’t thrown them out.

He shakes himself out of it. Harry has barely moved aside from stretching out more firmly on his front, one leg still bent up to keep himself spread. Jeff pumps some lube into his palm to warm it up before he presses two fingers inside Harry where he’s a little loose already from Jeff’s mouth on him.

Harry pushes back against him, silently urging him on, and two fingers quickly turn into three. Before Jeff can try to negotiate his pinky joining the rest, Harry comes unexpectedly against the sheets.

He’s still twitching with his orgasm when he disappointedly says, “Shit.”

Jeff hates himself for the relief he feels. Now he can safely jerk off onto Harry’s lower back, or his chest, or maybe even his face, if Jeff asks nicely and —

“You can still fuck me,” Harry adds, but it sounds more like, _I want you to, and you know why_.

Jeff bites his lip. He can say no. He knows that. Knows that Harry wouldn’t fault him for it, but would likely take it as something he’s done wrong. So Jeff asks, “Are you sure?” Because he really doesn’t want to hurt Harry.

Harry clenches experimentally around the fingers that Jeff still has inside of him. “Yeah,” he decides. “Go ahead. I want to feel you.” His voice is dreamy sounding, hazy and soft.

Jeff’s heart trips over itself, wobbling in his chest. He lays himself out over Harry’s body and kisses between his shoulder blades. He can give him this. Trepidation aside, there’s always a part of him that wants it too.

It’s easy as anything to fit himself into the cleft of Harry’s ass and nudge his hips forward. The head of his cock catches on his wet hole, and despite being thoroughly opened up, it takes a few tries for Jeff to push past the clutch of him.

They both sigh into it when Jeff is in as far as he can go. Jeff gives an experimental thrust and is rewarded with Harry letting out a tiny mewl. He checks his face to make sure that he’s not in any pain. When Harry notices, cracking his eyes open to see why Jeff isn’t continuing, his lips curve into a smile.

“I’m fine,” he assures. “I’ve taken worse before, haven’t I?”

“Still,” Jeff grumbles, but resumes his task, using only his hips to pull back and push forward again. He wraps an arm around Harry’s waist and buries his face into his shoulder so he can kiss him there over a dusting of summer freckles.

With Harry’s orgasm out of the way, Jeff finds himself being a bit more selfish than he usually would be, racing against some invisible force, wanting to come with his cock buried deep in Harry’s ass.

He’s panting, feet slipping against the sheets as his thrusts get more sloppy, that familiar electricity buzzing in the base of his spine.

It washes over him slowly, his dick giving pulse after pulse as he grinds his hips in choppy circles, sighing through it. Harry whimpers like Jeff’s pleasure is an extension of his own, reaching back to grip Jeff’s ass and keep him pressed close.

Jeff rests his forehead against the back of Harry’s neck. Eventually, though, he has to pull out, so he does so with a groan.

Instead of staying horizontal like Jeff is expecting, Harry sits up and quickly scurries off to the bathroom. When he returns, he meets Jeff’s questioning gaze with a tired shrug, his eyes heavy. He gets back under the covers, careful to avoid the wet spot.

Neither of them bring it up directly. They skirt around it: Jeff asking, “All good?” and Harry responding with, “I’m good. Let's go to sleep, baby.”

Jeff spoons him without argument. He should get up to pee first, but he can’t resist the temptation of Harry’s warm skin.

It’s like a weight has been temporarily lifted off his shoulders at Harry’s casualness. No anxious waiting as Harry sits with his hips or legs up, trying every position possible to see if it’ll take this time. Jeff also feels a bit guilty about earlier, when he didn’t want to do this, assuming that it would be like all of the other times lately.

He’s happy to be proved wrong. Harry hooks his ankle around one of Jeff’s and they fall asleep like that, tangled together and riding on a wispy cloud of no expectations.  

 

* * *

 

Jeff can smell it all the way down the hall: the telltale sign that Harry is baking.

In the kitchen, the smell is even stronger; it's something sweet and sugary that clings to the air. Harry is pulling a baking sheet out of the oven with his mitted hand, apron tied around his waist. Jeff peeks over his shoulder as he approaches.

“What are you making?” Jeff asks.

Harry jumps, startled, and turns around after putting the baking sheet down with a hand over his heart. “Don’t you know you’re not supposed to sneak up on people when they’re removing _hot things_ from the oven?”

A smile is all it takes to disarm Harry, who grabs a cookie from one of the many rows cooling on racks on the countertop and practically shoves it in Jeff’s mouth.

“Here,” Harry says. “Try this.”

Chewing thoughtfully, Jeff immediately notes that it’s delicious. He’s not sure what the flavor is exactly, but he thinks he might be getting a hint of hazelnut. The cookie is soft and still warm, with melty chocolate chips in the middle and just the right amount of crunch on the edges and bottom. With his mouth full, he enthusiastically nods his head and gives a thumbs up.

He snags two more cookies off of a rack and immediately takes a bite of one at the same time he forces the other past Harry’s protesting lips.

Harry looks disgruntled for a whole five seconds before he smiles brightly, swallows, and says, “My compliments to the chef.”

“Yeah, the chef who made a _huge_ mess. Is that chocolate on the _ceiling_?”

Harry sniffs indignantly. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Yeah yeah. Here, have another bite.” Jeff feeds Harry the remainder of the cookie between his fingers while finishing his own second. Distracted by his efforts to not get any crumbs on his shirt, he _almost_ misses the way Harry’s tongue grazes his thumb. Almost. An accident, maybe.

But Harry dispels that possibility right away by taking that same hand in both of his own and securing his lips over the tip of Jeff’s thumb, soft and wet, staring pointedly at Jeff with round eyes. He releases him with a quiet pop.

“Had a bit of chocolate there,” Harry murmurs. He licks his lips and lets Jeff’s hand drop. “Feed me another.”

Jeff could be snarky. He could totally ignore the fact that Harry assaulting his finger like that didn’t send a pulse of heat into his belly, stirring his cock from behind the confines of his jeans. In the middle of their kitchen. In the blink of an eye. He could go on with his day. Say something like  _Are your arms not working? Feed yourself_ and jokingly flick Harry on the forehead.

He doesn’t do any of those things. Silently, he grabs another cookie — this one slightly warmer than the rest, probably from a newer batch — and brings it to Harry’s open, waiting mouth.

Harry takes this one with another groan and leans back against the counter, an open invitation to let Jeff box him in, one hand braced on the counter’s edge next to Harry’s hip while the other reaches for yet _another_ cookie to feed him.

They go on like this for a bit, Jeff continually feeding Harry and watching his lashes flutter as he moans around his mouthfuls like he’s moonlighting as a porn star. He makes sure that Jeff’s fingers are _thoroughly_ clean after each exchange, sucking on the tips and sliding his tongue over his knuckles. Jeff’s dick is practically throbbing now, but he’s mostly content to let Harry have the ball in his court.

When Jeff feeds Harry his sixth cookie he feels his own stomach wobble in sympathy at how full Harry must be, so he pauses for a moment and doesn’t grab another. Harry chews slowly and thoughtfully, the wheels clearly turning in his head.

He swallows, and in a low, mellow voice says, “Could use some milk.”

He sounds a lot like he does when he takes more control in bed, offering gentle commands for Jeff to follow. So that’s what Jeff does: he pours Harry a glass of milk (lactose free, of course) and hands it to him without a word. Their eyes meet for a quick glance; the green of Harry’s irises are being edged out by how big his pupils have gotten.

Harry takes a long sip, his throat bobbing, and if there were anyone on Earth who could make drinking milk a sexy form of foreplay, it would be him.  

“Thank you,” he says, and promptly lunges for Jeff.

Gone is all the pussyfooting and gentleness from before. Their mouths meet in a rough clash that tastes like sugar and chocolate and _need_.

Harry tugs at Jeff’s wrist and guides his hand in between them. Jeff is expecting to be led to Harry’s dick, but what he gets instead is the flat of his palm being brought to Harry’s belly. Even through his t-shirt, Jeff can feel how warm his skin is, how —  _God_ , how firm and distended his stomach has gotten from all the snacking. It’s only a shadowy illusion of what could be, but the wave of arousal and longing that hits him is enough to have Jeff staggering on his feet.

He moans into Harry’s mouth before he can stop himself, and the resulting shiver that wracks Harry’s body is enough to spur him on even more.

Their clothes are discarded quickly. Harry shuts off the oven and sprints to the bedroom to retrieve the lube and returns with it triumphantly, holding it up in the air like one might do with a trophy.

“We could just move to the bedroom. Might be easier,” Jeff suggests.

Harry grins and pops the cap on the bottle. “Not as fun that way,” he says, and reaches behind himself with his now-wet fingers.

Jeff swallows and blinks, standing on the tile and feeling a bit useless until Harry bends over the counter and asks, “Wanna help me out here?”

It’s easy enough to replace Harry’s fingers with his own, slipping two in right away and reveling in how tight and warm Harry is. Jeff twists his wrist a bit, changes the angle and feels out Harry’s insides, cataloging the way he clutches at him and twitches involuntarily, churning his hips in small circles. With his fingers struggling to stretch out into a ‘V’, Jeff grunts at the dark, shadowy sight of Harry opening up for him. He pushes his dick into the back of Harry’s thigh for some relief.

Harry looks at him over his shoulder and smirks coyly like the pest that he is. It’s satisfying, to say the least, when Jeff curls his fingers, pressing down on Harry’s prostate, and his mouth drops open to let out a loud moan. Then Jeff gives him a smirk of his own.

When Harry recovers, his voice still a little breathless, he says, “Okay. I’m good now.”

Under normal circumstances, Jeff would prefer to take more time doing this — draw it out and work up to three fingers. But these aren’t normal circumstances. Harry turns more fully to the side to push Jeff’s hand away and inadvertently gives Jeff a fantastic view of his still-swollen belly. That’s enough for Jeff to decide that Harry’s been prepped enough.

He’s not a complete animal, though, so he still carefully pulls his fingers out and pumps some more lube into his hand to coat his dick before snubbing the head up against Harry’s hole.

There’s a bit more resistance than usual when he puts some weight behind his hips to begin the process of the initial breach. He gets his hands around Harry’s waist for better leverage, pulling him back onto his cock as he presses forward; Harry’s ribs expand and contract under Jeff’s fingers as he starts to really pant.

They both cry out when the final bit of resistance gives and Jeff is able to slide all the way in with a single smooth slide.

His first few thrusts are a little choppy; Harry is vise-tight and not really giving him much room to work, but Jeff isn’t really complaining. Slowly, he’s able to carve out a space for himself, incrementally opening Harry up more and more on his cock. They don’t really go for this position that much, and they certainly haven’t made a habit of fucking in the kitchen, but Jeff’s eyes feel like they could roll into the back of his head at any moment at how good it feels.

It's only when he starts to pick up the pace and increase the depth of his thrusts that Harry’s whining turns sharp and unpleasant. Jeff immediately stops.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

Harry winces as he straightens up, changing the angle and making everything so tight that Jeff nearly sees stars. “As much as I’ve been enjoying your exploration of my lungs, I feel kinda like I’m gonna puke.”

Jeff wilts a bit. Metaphorically, as his dick hasn’t quite absorbed Harry’s words yet. “Do you wanna stop?”

Harry goes up onto his toes a bit and lifts himself off Jeff’s dick. In a flash, he’s turned around and sitting his bare ass on the counter. “Absolutely not. Just need to switch positions, I think.” He wraps his arms and legs around Jeff’s waist to pull him in and kisses him.

Now it’s Jeff’s turn to go up on his toes; the counter isn’t exactly a great match for his height but he’ll make do.

The second push in is easier and made even more so by Harry, who helpfully tucks his hands behind his own knees and pulls his legs back. It gives Jeff more space to move, but perhaps more importantly, it gives him an incredible view.

The backs of Harry’s thighs are pink from the front of Jeff’s own slapping against them earlier; his ass cheeks are even pinker, jiggling slightly from the force of impact as Jeff quickly and efficiently slams into him; his hole is shiny and stretched, the skin there pulled tight around the girth of Jeff’s cock.

Jeff can’t look at Harry’s stomach because he doesn’t want to come in five seconds flat. So he keeps his glances limited to Harry’s lower half. Harry, however, seems intent on goading Jeff anyway.

“‘M so full. Feel how full I am.”

Jeff can’t make himself put up a fight as Harry once again guides his hand to his belly.

“Christ,” Jeff says on a half-sigh half-moan. His hips start rabbiting into Harry even faster.

Harry bites his bottom lip, white chiclet teeth digging into soft pink skin. His eyes flutter shut. The grip he has on his legs starts to slip, legs dropping to wrap loosely around Jeff’s hips.

It’s gorgeous to watch, Harry coming undone. Like a blooming flower opening its petals for the first time, Harry unfurls right before Jeff’s eyes. His back arches, head tipping back. He reaches for his cock, which has been left mostly untouched so far, and starts leisurely jerking himself, keeping his strokes long and loose. Then he sucks in a sharp breath and holds it, tensing for a long moment, before he releases it and spurts all over his own belly and forearm.

The resulting contractions around Jeff’s dick have him rushing to his own finish. But he gets overzealous with his thrusting and pulls out too far, sending the head of his dick skidding up and over Harry’s taint and bumping into the back of his balls.

Harry inhales through his teeth, oversensitive, eyes still closed. He’s a little clumsy, but he reaches between his legs to take Jeff in hand, pumping him with his warm palm, quick and tight.

It’s just as Harry goes to reposition him back inside that Jeff’s insides start ringing the warning bells. His orgasm doesn’t creep up on him; it hits him like a Mack truck. Jeff comes with a loud grunt, his dick jerking wildly in Harry’s grip, making an absolute mess between them. Harry’s ass and thighs take the brunt of it, but the counter gets some too.

Even in his post-orgasm haze he still has the presence of mind to say, “Well, that’s gross.”

Harry laughs with him, but there’s something a bit off about the set of his mouth. Pouty, almost.

Before he can ask what’s wrong this time, Harry beats him to it. “Well, how am I supposed to get pregnant like _that_? Poor aim, Jeffrey.”

Jeff feels his face go hot. He swallows. “Aren’t you already pregnant with a cookie baby?” To prove his point, he traces over the slope of Harry’s abdomen. Both of them shiver.

“Not the same as a real baby, though,” Harry notes. Jeff can tell that he’s aiming for light and casual, but it falls a bit flat; there’s a hint of very genuine concern in his tone.

“No,” Jeff concedes. “But at least clean up is easier this way?” Harry has complained to him many times about the trials and tribulations of fucking without a condom.

Harry smiles at him. A small one, but still a smile. “True.”

“Counter is gonna have to be bleached, though. I don’t know if we’re ever gonna be able to have my parents over for dinner again, either. In fact, this kitchen is now a quarantined zone. No entry without special clearance.”

Joking is easy. The step into safer, more neutral territory has Jeff breathing easier, especially as he watches some of the tension drop from Harry’s features, his face smoothing out.

Harry sits up, careful to avoid any unnecessary spills. “Speaking of, do you mind grabbing me a towel?” He holds his come-covered arm up.

Jeff pulls a hand towel out and tosses it at him. It’s Halloween-themed, with little pumpkins and witches printed on it.

Cleaning up the rest of the mess can wait. Jeff looks at the counter after Harry hops down and wrinkles his nose, vowing to dig out the Lysol later.

For now, though, he wants nothing more than a shower and to cuddle up to Harry for a bit. So he tells him as much.

Harry considers him for a moment, a smirk playing at his lips. “Are you sure you don’t want another cookie first? I’m feeling a bit snackish.”

“I’ll show you snackish,” Jeff says as he throws a shrieking Harry over his shoulders and marches down the hall in the direction of the bathroom.

 

* * *

 

Harry’s stopped apologizing.

Right after it happened, it was almost of month of near-constant _I’m sorry’s_ despite Jeff’s best efforts to tell him that he did nothing wrong, that it was out of their hands.

Then Harry didn’t say much of anything. He would just look at Jeff every so often with big, tired eyes that spoke to him more than any words could.

Slowly, they’ve managed to mostly piece themselves back together. Instead of dwelling on their grief, they’ve been trying to focus on the positives, clinging to the fact that Harry _can_ get pregnant. They’ve reached a tentative confidence that when things finally do work out, they’ll be better prepared. More proactive and ready to see it through.

Jeff never expected that this is where they’d end up. Then again, it’s likely that no one ever really anticipates this outcome, or at the very least, they desperately hope that things will go differently.

Three months is the suggested amount of time to wait before trying again after a miscarriage. Physically, it’s long enough for the body to heal and to return to its normal hormone levels. All of Harry’s blood tests have come back fine. His ultrasounds have been clear as well.

The first time they tried again had ended in tears. It was mostly expected. They had waited a week after the three month mark and it proved to be not enough time after all. Jeff was actually the first one to cry, before he could even make sense of what he was feeling, having Harry underneath him, doing something that’s supposed to feel good and let you forget about your troubles for a bit. But the only thing Jeff could think about was that the very same act has brought them both so much heartache.

Harry was uncomfortable as soon as they started; he claimed at first that he was simply out of practice, having gone a few months without sex like that. But it quickly became apparent that there was more to it when he started to cramp and bleed.

It put them off it for a while. They know how to be intimate in other ways, and their hands and mouths work just fine. Sex stopped being such a priority. It was nice in its own way, to reacquaint themselves with each other’s bodies. Slowly, they’ve started to remember that they’re allowed to enjoy each other and that their loss shouldn’t paralyze them.

They lost the baby in June on a day that was perfectly sunny. Now it’s October and the air is cooler, the days shorter. Things have mostly gone back to normal. Still, it catches Jeff off guard when Harry suggests they have sex while they’re cleaning up after dinner.

There’s no mistaking what he means, either. This isn’t an offer for mutual handjobs under the covers before taking turns at the sink to wash up and go to sleep afterwards. Harry’s eyes are determined, contrasted only by the way he’s pulling at the skin around his thumbnail.

Jeff blinks and lets out a breath. “I — yeah. Okay. ‘Lemme just wipe down the table.”

Harry doesn’t seem shocked that Jeff isn’t putting up a fight, but he hesitates — opening and closing his mouth a few times — before he says, “I want… to try.”

_Oh_ , Jeff thinks. Perhaps it’s awful of him but he hadn’t even considered that possibility until just now. Not that he doesn’t want to. He wants that. But he wants them both to be absolutely ready. His hand clenches around the wad of paper towels in his grip.

“Are you sure?”

Harry looks mulish for a moment before relenting. His shoulders drop, his face melting into something less tense. “Yes?” He says it like a question.

Jeff doesn’t want to seem like he doesn’t believe him, even though Harry’s answer hasn’t exactly given him the most confidence. He trusts Harry, though. Trusts him to make decisions and exercise autonomy over his unruly body. There’s enough doubt in their lives. They both deserve this tiny shred of a maybe.

It doesn’t make things any less difficult.

They’re extra careful with each other, delicately getting undressed like any hurried or less-than-practiced movements will ruin this carefully-curated spell they’ve cast over themselves.

They use the covers as a shield. The lights are off because neither of them bothered to turn them on. Perhaps it’s another means of protection, keeping things limited to hazy outlines and touch without sight. It makes it less real: less stark and harsh than if they were bathed in a fluorescent glow.  

Even still, in the darkness of their bedroom, Jeff can see the way Harry is shaking slightly. He can feel it even more as Harry runs his hands over Jeff’s bare back.

He wants to say something to him. After all, it’s just them. He has no reason to be nervous. They know each other, heart and soul. But that would be disingenuous. Jeff is nervous, too. He can’t stop his stomach from doing flips or ease the tremble beneath the skin of his chest.

Harry kisses him, dipping their toes into the water. Jeff kisses him back, pouring his whole self into it, trying to tell him, _I love you, I want you, I need you_.

One of Harry’s legs bends and wraps around Jeff’s waist; he must understand.

The kiss turns deeper and more urgent. Harry’s pawing at Jeff’s shoulders now, and for the first time since they got into bed, Jeff feels Harry’s hardness nudging up against his belly.

He glances down between them to double check, to make sure that it’s not his mind conjuring things up from his own desire. But it’s real; Harry’s dick is pink and getting fatter by the second. Jeff can’t just look any longer. He ducks down and kisses him, right on the middle of his shaft.

Harry gasps, his back arching slightly. Jeff continues his exploration of a place he’s already familiar with — brushes his lips over the vein that runs up the underside, swipes his tongue over the spot under the head that never fails to make Harry keen. He fits his lips over the crown and relishes in the low sound Harry lets out. He knows this better than the back of his own hand. He’s made a point to commit experiences like these to memory, wants them etched into his brain and retinas and eardrums forever.

Suddenly, Harry is tugging gently at Jeff’s hair. When he looks up, he sees Harry’s pink cheeks and glassy eyes. Something slams against his ribs and tells him that they should stop, that they’re still not ready, need more time to —

“Can you come up here and kiss me? Please?” Harry asks in a small voice.

Jeff’s heart jumps into his throat. “Yeah,” he soothes, and does as Harry asks.

It’s not a hardship to press his lips against Harry’s, slotting in between Harry’s thighs that come up to rest over his lower back. But he still can’t help but feel like they’re putting a bandaid over a bursting pipe. He kisses Harry anyway: lets him slide their tongues together, lets him gasp into his mouth as their groins press together.

“Please,” Harry says again. He sounds like he’s on the verge of tears.

But Jeff won’t stop until Harry tells him to. It’s an exercise in trust.  

“What do you want?” Jeff asks, because if they’re gonna do this, he’s not leaving anything up to guessing.

Harry’s eyes are darting quickly back and forth between Jeff’s. He looks like he’s trying to figure out a math problem in his head.

With an outstretched arm, Harry grabs the lube off the nightstand. It’s a testament to Jeff’s nerves that he didn’t notice it there before; he wonders how much planning Harry has done for this.

Instead of handing the bottle to Jeff, Harry surprises him by slicking up his own fingers and reaching between his legs.

Like Harry can sense that Jeff might feel slighted by this turn of events, he says, “Want you to watch.”

But Jeff is well-versed in Harry’s particular brand of doublespeak. He hears everything else there, too: _I need this tiny bit of control, thank you for understanding_.

Jeff sits back on his haunches and lets his eyes drop down to where Harry’s hand is working. He can’t actually see that much, with Harry’s palm obscuring mostly everything. The shadowy hints of what Jeff knows is happening are enough, though. The tendons on the back of Harry’s hand stand out in sharp relief under his skin, and small hitches of breath escape Harry’s mouth as he opens himself up.

Harry’s dick starts to go soft after a few minutes, so Jeff takes it upon himself to take him in hand, pumping slow and gentle.

Harry breathes shakily. He keeps working his fingers for a few more minutes before he nods at Jeff, letting him know that it’s time.

Jeff takes a moment to prepare himself, idly jerking his own dick, adding more lube and making sure that everything is going to be wet enough.

He lets himself fall forward, bracing his arms on either side of Harry’s head and kissing him before he moves his hips into position.

They keep eye contact with one another as Jeff slowly works his way past the tight, fluttering ring of muscle. Harry’s biting his lip, clearly trying to keep his discomfort from showing on his face.

It makes Jeff reconsider his stance on not stopping unless Harry explicitly says to. Anxiety is starting to roil around in his gut and he’s not sure if he’s going to be able to keep up this charade. It’s an unstoppable cycle; as soon as he starts to worry about if he’ll be able to perform the way Harry wants, he starts to lose his erection.

Harry must feel it, and paired with Jeff slowing his thrusts down to a snail’s pace, he lower lip starts to tremble. “Is it me?” he asks.

Jeff shakes his head, He pulls out and kisses Harry softly. “No, babe. It’s not you. I just… I can’t. You’re not hard. I’m hurting you —”

“No,” Harry rushes to say. “You’re not, I promise.”

“You’re uncomfortable, though.”

Harry averts his eyes. A single tear slowly rolls down his cheek. Jeff kisses him again, his own eyes stinging.

“I really wanted to try,” Harry says, and his voice finally breaks.

“Sweetheart, I don’t want you upset like this. I think we should wait a little longer —”

“I don’t _want_ to wait anymore,” Harry sobs, the words torn from his throat.

Jeff lies down next to Harry. He pulls him to his chest and lets him cry. His hands are shaking but he does his best to rub Harry’s back, holding him tight like if he squeezes hard enough, he can force the broken pieces of him back together.

He waits until Harry settles down and his wet hiccups subside almost completely.

It’s a risky move, all things considered, but it’s something that Jeff needs to do. Something that neither of them have allowed since June, like an imaginary line drawn in the sand that might knock them on their asses if they cross it.

He tries his best to make his intentions obvious as he rolls Harry onto his back again, but this time, it’s to kiss over his heart, over his ribs and the freckle next to one of his extra nipples.

Harry stares up at the ceiling, a fresh round of tears gathering in his eyes, but he scratches his nails through Jeff’s hair and doesn’t push him away.

When Jeff is eye-level with Harry’s belly button, he pauses, letting himself feel the weight of all the struggles they’ve faced so far. He doesn’t try to push them down. They’re bright and scary in their intensity, but it feels like a gift when he ghosts his lips over Harry’s stomach.

He does it again, more firmly this time, and pulls back to see that Harry’s skin is wet. Jeff touches his own face; he’s crying now, too.

“I love you,” Harry says, still wobbly around the edges.

Jeff’s voice is just a crackle. “I love you, too.”

He rests his head on Harry’s belly, turning so his ear is against his skin. He listens like one might with a shell, wishing for some type of answer.

Why did this happen to them? How long before they’re okay again?

All he can hear are the odd sounds from Harry’s organs. No answers for him today, it seems.

That’s okay. _They’ll_ be okay, eventually. They’ll be okay.

 

* * *

 

It’s the first time they’ve been out in months, so Harry is a little buzzed and extra giggly.

That’s why he gets banished to their bedroom as soon as him and Jeff get home, and Jeff is the one who deals with the babysitter, paying her and saying goodnight.

Harry manages to get his shoes, socks, pants and underwear off fine, but he’s struggling with the buttons on his blue floral top, staring down at them like they’ve betrayed him.

Jeff finds him like that and immediately laughs at him from the doorway.

Harry can’t help but laugh too. “Don’t just stand there. Help me, please.”

The buttons don’t put up nearly as much of a fight for Jeff, easily sliding out of their designated holes before Jeff pushes the shirt off Harry’s shoulders entirely. Harry loves the way Jeff’s eyes track over his whole body, his skin erupting in goosebumps under the weight of it.

Jeff touches him gently over his ribs, stepping forward and forcing Harry to walk backwards. They tumble down onto their bed as the backs of Harry’s knees hit the edge of it, landing with an _oof_.

Jeff is quick to kiss him, nipping at Harry’s bottom lip as he hovers above him.

But Harry remembers something and pushes against Jeff’s chest. “Pause, just for one second. I need to wash my face.”

Jeff plays dirty, sucking on the spot just below Harry’s ear. “You can do it after.”

Harry arches slightly and his mouth drops open. “I know that if I don’t do it now, I won’t do it later. And I break out if I don’t do it every night.”

Jeff stops his assault and sighs, flopping back on the pillows. He starts to unzip his pants. “Hurry up. We’re on a limited timetable here. If one of the little monsters wakes up this party is over.”

“We can send them back to bed,” Harry says, already shuffling over to the bathroom.

Jeff gives him a look that speaks to all of the times that Harry has _not_ sent the kids back to bed after a night time wake-up call. He just can’t say no to them when they ask if they can sleep in sleep in bed with him and Jeff.

Harry washes his face as quickly as he can and slathers on a layer of his favorite moisturizer. When he gets back to the bedroom Jeff is helpfully and delightfully naked and—

“You can’t be serious,” Harry says when he spots the bottle of lube in Jeff’s hand.

“What?” he asks, feigning innocence.

“It’s _midnight_. Put that away, Mr. Ambitious.”

Harry climbs back into bed and swings a leg over Jeff’s hips.

“Really?”

“ _Yes_ , really. It takes too long. And if you’re not careful, I can be _very_ tired _very_ quickly.”

“You never used to be this mean.” Jeff is grinning practically from ear to ear, his eyes wide and excited. He loves getting Harry riled up.

Harry shrugs. “Three kids will do that to you.”

“Ah, but who would we be without them?”

Harry considers that for a moment. Jeff likely meant in jest, but there’s some very real truth to it. The boys have shaped them as people. Made them change their ways and reevaluate old habits. They’re both trying to be the best versions of themselves for them.

But on a relational level, the journey to having the boys has shaped them, too. Every up, down, and sideways day has helped get them to where they are today: happy, healthy, and living under the same roof with three kids that they couldn’t love any more if they wanted to. Harry would like to think that him and Jeff are stronger than ever and more in tune with one another.

That’s why it’s easy for Harry to say, “We’d certainly be more well rested.”

Jeff doesn’t miss a beat. “Yeah, well, if you weren’t insistent on letting them into our bed every time they blink we’d probably get more sleep too.”

Harry narrows his eyes at him playfully. “You know, I think my hands are tired. You can jerk yourself off.”

Before Harry can slide off of him, Jeff catches him around the waist and keeps him where he is. Now it’s Harry’s turn to grin. “That’s what I thought,” he adds.

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” Jeff says, and pulls Harry down to lick into his mouth.

They don’t waste any time from there out. It’s become somewhat of a routine lately, to be as efficient as possible, never quite sure what major catastrophe might happen in the lives of three and four year olds who have everyone wrapped around their little fingers, Harry especially.

Since having kids, handjobs have been the easiest to tackle. They’re simple, feel good, and get the job done with minimal opportunities for awkward explanations if a child does happen to walk in their room unannounced (Just a few weeks ago, a bleary-eyed Jude threw up all over the bathroom floor and came in to let them know just as Harry was about to ride Jeff within an inch of his life. The whole experience was thoroughly chastising for both of them, but thankfully Jude was none the wiser; he simply told them what happened and crawled back into his own bed and slept until late the next morning).

That’s why it’s unspoken as they take each other in hand and start making quick work of trying to see who can get the other off faster.

“My legs are starting to fall asleep,” Jeff says, giving Harry’s balls a pleasant fondle. “Can you roll off?”

“What’s the matter? Am I too heavy?” Harry doesn’t give him the chance to respond. He gets off Jeff’s lap and stretches out next to him, priding himself on the fact that he didn’t stop the motion of his jerking hand once.

They’re merciless with each other, all smiles, playful and giddy. They know by now to be quiet, but Harry can’t stop himself fast enough when he whimpers high in his throat. Jeff’s eyes light up at the noise, but he shushes Harry with a smile on his face. “Quiet,” he whispers, only to be interrupted by their door squeaking on its hinges, shortly followed by a little voice saying, “Daddy? I had a accident.”

They both freeze and jump back from each other like they’ve been burned. Jeff is quick to grab the sheet to cover them as much as possible.

Harry clears his throat and pushes his hair off his sweaty face. He’s thankful that they opted to leave the light off.

“What’s the matter, lovie?”

River pads over to the bed, his blanket and stuffed hedgehog clutched in his fists. “I had a accident,” he repeats, his lower lip starting to wobble.

“That’s all right, little dude. It happens. C’mere,” Jeff says, patting the middle of the mattress.

“ _Wait_ ,” Harry urges. “Pajamas. Lets get you cleaned up first, baby. Okay?”

With one of his legs already up on the bed, ready to hoist himself up and over, River nods and hops back down.

Harry scoops up his own discarded underwear from the floor and slides them up his legs before he escorts River back down the hall and into the bathroom. Jeff isn’t far behind, stopping to grab a pair of clean underwear from River’s dresser for him.

Out of the three, River was the easiest to potty train. It mostly came down to his determination to be just like his big brothers, and that what they could do he could do better. So when Jude and Eli were being (reluctantly) potty trained, River was right behind them, his little butt falling through the toilet seat too many times to count.

He’s usually fine during the day; he’s only had one accident so far at his toddler tumble class. It’s just night time that’s trickier, when he’s more prone to wetting the bed while he’s asleep. He usually wakes up when it happens, so this is not a rare occurrence as of late.

Harry and Jeff help him out of his wet PJs, wipe him down with a wet wipe, give him clean undies (Paw Patrol for tonight), and let him wear one of their big t-shirts because he seems to like those best, even if they do go down to his ankles.

His bed has a special mattress cover for this particular reason, so it’s easy enough to pull off his fitted sheet and swap it for a new one. Thankfully his other blankets seem to have missed out on the fun, as they’re perfectly dry.

Once he’s been tucked in again and looks like a little baby burrito, Harry perches on the edge of his bed and sweeps his wavy blond hair off his face, his touch feather light.

“You okay now, bud?”

River nods, his eyelids already starting to droop.

“All right. It’s time to go to sleep again, okay? We’re right down the hall.”

Just like that, River’s eyes close after a final sigh and nod. If only he were this relaxed the rest of the time, too.

Careful not to jostle him too much, Harry stands and bends down to kiss the top of his head. Jeff, who’s right behind him, does the same before they shut his bedroom door, leaving it open a crack, and head back to their own bed.

Harry is the first to flop down onto the mattress, letting out a gust of air and a laugh. Jeff crawls up next to him and pats him on the hip.

“Proud of you. Didn’t even cave when he pulled the pouty sad face,” Jeff says.

Harry glares at him sidelong but there’s no real heat behind it. He turns on his side so they’re facing each other, their positions the same as before they were interrupted. “I had my reasons.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Would it be awful and weird if I said that changing pee-covered sheets wasn’t enough to completely ruin the mood for me?”

Jeff snorts. “Not the strangest thing you’ve said or done by a long shot.”

Harry shortens the gap between them, sliding across the bed and wedging one of his thighs between both of Jeff’s. He’s pleased to discover that after a few gentle nudges and a thorough kiss with a bit of tongue, Jeff is well on his way to being ready for round two, or rather, a continuation of round one after a minor intermission.

Feeling Jeff grow harder against his leg is enough for Harry to get there as well. He gasps into Jeff’s mouth when Jeff rubs him over his boxers, the fabric soft enough that it doesn’t hurt but still rough enough that the friction feels good.

Following Jeff’s lead, Harry strokes him over his underwear as well, feeling out the shape of him, taking the challenge in stride as he has to work around not being able to wrap his hand fully around him.

It’s all very… high school. Except Harry never did this sort of thing in high school. College, too, for that matter. At least not until he was a junior. So it’s exciting, doing something that he mostly skipped over when he was younger; the fumbly, giggly, formative experiences that he sometimes wishes he’d had.

Reality, however, is much better. His mouth and chin are getting scratched up from Jeff’s stubble. He has a wedding band on his left ring finger. The man he loves and shares a life with knows his body almost better than he does. Jeff’s strokes are perfect and exactly what Harry likes, because although efficiency can sometimes mean perfunctory, it also means that you know which buttons to press and how.

Jeff gets his hand in Harry’s underwear and closes his palm over the head of Harry’s cock, squeezing softly, dipping his thumb into the sensitive slit and making Harry’s toes curl.

It takes Harry a few moments to compose himself. He ignores Jeff’s self-satisfied smirk and lets go of Jeff’s cock to make a show of licking his own palm, getting it nice and wet, before sticking his hand under the waistband of Jeff’s boxers too.

Jeff stares at him, his mouth dropped open, before he captures Harry’s mouth in a kiss that’s all wet lips and teeth and harsh breaths being exchanged.

It’s when Jeff switches to short, fast strokes under the head that Harry starts to fall through the cracks of his own control. He wants to hold out for longer, because he’s competitive almost to a fault, but all it takes is a few pulsing squeezes of Jeff’s fist for Harry to be shaking as he comes all over the sheets.

He gets a few seconds to recover before Jeff is whispering into his ear, his sultry tone betraying his words, “Ha. I win. _Again_.”

Harry cracks his eyes open and is greeted by Jeff’s smug, smiling face. “You cheated,” he murmurs. It wouldn’t even be a lie if he told Jeff that he’s too tired to return the favor; Harry can feel the sticky threads of sleep trying to pull him under.

His hand has gone limp around Jeff’s still-hard cock, but he puts as much effort as he can into stroking him again. Jeff’s hand joins his not long after, wrapping his palm around the back of Harry’s, but he doesn’t try to change his speed or pressure. He just rests there, like he simply wants to touch Harry for the sake of it.

Harry lets his eyes reclose and tilts his face up for a kiss he gets right away. He smiles into it, happy and relaxed from his own orgasm, ready to get Jeff there too so they can lazily clean up with a wet wipe (they’re multipurpose in their house) and go to sleep.

Harry’s not sure if this level of comfort with another person is common. He hopes it is for the sake of others, but he’s selfish, too. He wants this all for himself, to revel in as much as possible.

He remembers thinking that his life was going to turn out differently. That they’d make the necessary decisions to have a baby one way or another. And it likely wouldn't have changed much, it they adopted or used a surrogate, but he also likes to think that things worked out exactly the way they were supposed to. If they hadn’t, they wouldn't be where they are right now. They wouldn’t be the people they are today. Harry is eternally grateful for these moments and all the ones that led up to them, good or bad. He’s _happy_ , and things worked out in the end.  


End file.
